It Only Hurts When Your Eyes Are Open
by TheSeventhBlackRoseAlice
Summary: Following the episode Distractions, House is on a severe downward spiral as he struggles through the emotional and physical pain he's experiencing following Stacey's departure. Cameron tries to reach out and help her favorite snarky doctor. Ch 4 Updated!
1. It Only Hurts When Your Eyes Are Open

An overly enthusiastic morning light accosted Dr. Gregory House through the partially drawn curtains of his bedroom.

"Ughhh…" he moaned into his pillow and rolled over, clutching his throbbing forehead.

_'Mental note: A night of pills, alcohol and "pleasurable company" did not a good morning make.'_

He clumsily reached over to check the clock on his nightstand. 10:07 AM.

_'Perfect.' _He thought as he struggled to get out of bed at get ready for a long day at work.

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"Maybe he's not coming in today…"

Doctors Cameron, Chase and Foreman sat around the conference table of the diagnostics office, the clock noisily ticking their boss' increasing lateness behind them. Cameron was sifting through some mail while Chase and Foreman played a game of "Paper Football".

"House never takes personal days, and if it was hospital-related, we'd have been told," Foreman stated matter-of-factly as he positioned his fingers like a goalpost on the table.

"We've been sitting here for more than an hour. This is ridiculous." Chase took a shot with the folded paper football and missed his target completely.

"Your _aim_ is _ridiculous_," came the gruff reply from the doorway.

Chase nearly jumped out of his skin.

"House!" Cameron exclaimed, surprised.

House frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Kindly keep your voice down, Cameron. I have a nasty headache." He limped over to stand in front of the white board. "Besides, there are better ways to let me know you're happy to see me." He winked at her.

Cameron just rolled her eyes.

"Where have you been?" Foreman demanded. "It's almost 11 o'clock…and you look half-dead."

Chase put a hand to his mouth and muttered, "I'd say more than _half_."

House popped a couple of Vicodin into his mouth. "Fell off the wrong side of the bed this morning…"

Cameron gave him a quick evaluating glance as she handed him a cup of coffee and returned to her seat.

"Now, don't you have some sick patients to deal with or something?"

"We don't have any cases, so, actually, no." Foreman replied.

"Then _find_ some. Go down to the clinic. I'll page you if something interesting comes up." House turned and disappeared into his office. Foreman and Chase groaned in protest as they shuffled out the door. Cameron paused a moment at the door before turning to follow House.

House was leaning back in his desk chair, feet propped up, eyes closed.

"House"

He begrudgingly opened one eye and saw a rather agitated-looking Cameron staring at him. "Clinic's the other way," he said.

"I think we need to talk." she said.

House shut his eyes again. "No, apparently _you_ need to talk. _I_ need a nap."

"I'm serious, House. I'm—" she tried to find words that wouldn't open her up to a sarcastic remark, but was unable to find them and instead asked, "Are you okay?"

"Just _peachy_…" he answered. "Better if you'd stop badgering me and go down to the clinic like I told you so I could have a little peace and quiet."

Cameron knew something was up, but thought it was unwise to push the subject right now. '_Let him rest his head first'_ she thought. "Okay."

Cameron left the room and House let out a long, ragged sigh. He could tell that this wasn't the end of Cameron's inquisition for the day. She had given up way too easily, even for her.

_'This is going to be a **long**_ _day...'_ he thought miserably.


	2. Lies Get Tossed And Truth is Spoken

Thank you to everyone who read my first attempt at a House fanfic and a huge hug to everyone who took the time to write a review. It means a lot to me and I appreciate all the feedback! Here's the second chapter…Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from "House", but that's not going to stop me from playing with them!

Spoilers: Anything up until "Distractions" is fair game, so consider yourselves warned!

Summary: Cameron is determined to try to save House from his worst enemy—himself.

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**Chapter 2-- Lies Get Tossed and Truth Is Spoken**

"House!" Wilson yelled at the sleeping form hunched over the desk in front of him. "House! Come on, I thought we had moved past having a naptime."

House didn't respond.

Wilson raised the manilla folder in his hand and was about to bring it down upon House's head when House's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist midair.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you you're supposed to let sleeping doctors lie?" he grumbled.

"I believe that was _dogs_," Wilson said. "And _you_ have a patient."

House sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he just wasn't going to get the extra sleep he needed today and stood up, reaching out his hand for Wilson to hand him the file.

But Wilson kept talking, "What are you doing catnapping in the middle of the day anyway?" He squinted at House. "You sick?"

House lunged forward and snatched the file out of his friend's grasp. "Yeah. Sick of people wanting to play 20 questions." He took out some of the papers from the folder, and trying to focus Wilson's attention on something less grating on his nerves, he asked, "What's the deal with Mrs. Teasdale here?"

It seemed to work. "65 year old female, passed out in the back some guy's cab…Cabbie brought her here…And he says we better get her back on her feet because he still needs to be paid for her fare." Wilson rolled his eyes at the last statement.

House smirked. "Ah, the Good Samaritan. Is it possible "Miss Daisy" here just overexerted herself?" he asked looking through the paperwork.

"Doubtful. She was just having lunch with her daughter before she took a cab home."

"Diabetic?"

"No. She was on antibiotics for an infection a couple of weeks ago, but that's it."

"Bad reaction to the drugs seems unlikely."

"Her pulse rate was _57 bpm _on admittance and she was mildly _hypothermic_."

"It's 50 degrees outside…barely _chilly_…" Wilson watched as House furrowed his brow. The gears were turning. He'd gotten him interested.

"Call down to the clinic," House said. "Page Chase, Foreman and Cameron. Tell them something interesting came up."

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House sat resting his head on the handle of his cane. "So…65 year old woman hails a taxi and loses consciousness…I know their driving is bad, but usually not enough to knock someone out...Patient's still unresponsive and has a low pulse rate and body temp." He sat up. "Differential diagnosis, people?"

"Low blood pressure accounts for the passing out, lower body temp and heart rate." Foreman suggested.

"Doesn't account for still her still being unconscious and low blood pressure generally doesn't make you cold enough to be hypothermic." House explained.

"What about a blood clot?" Chase offered, chewing on his pencil.

Cameron chimed in, "What about an infection around her heart? Maybe the antibiotics didn't work and the original infection came back?"

"Okay, get a MRI, EKG, and a blood workup."

Foreman and Chase gathered their papers and left. Cameron, once again, stayed behind.

'_Time for Round Two…' _

"Dr. House?"

'_Here we go'_ he thought. Leaning heavily on his cane, he tried to escape into his office.

"Obviously when I said go run the tests, what I really meant was stay here while the patient dies so we can chat." He called behind him.

"Chase and Foreman are more than capable of handling a few basic tests." She called after him, following him into his office for the second time that day. "Right now I want to know…what's _really_ going on?"

"Nothing, _Mom_. I'm fine."

"I don't believe you." She said, crossing her arms.

"Your problem." House grabbed his GameBoy out of his desk drawer and started to walk away.

"I know about what happened with Stacey!" Cameron blurted out.

House stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.

Cameron swallowed and continued nervously, knowing she was traveling through a minefield. "I know something happened between you two in Baltimore…and maybe even after…"

House looked into her eyes, trying to gauge just how much she really knew.

Cameron went on, "I know that you cared about her—_loved_ her…and now she's gone…" She gave him a knowing, sympathetic look, one that said '_I know how you feel…I've been there…I've lost someone too…_'

House looked at the ground. He couldn't take the sickening and blatant display of pity she wore on her face.

"I just wanted to know if you were alright…I just wanted to know…if you _need anything_…"

House returned his eyes to hers with an icy stare. "Just go do your job."

"But—"

"Dammit, Cameron!" he banged his fist hard against the glass wall of the office, causing it to shake, as if the room itself could feel his anger. Cameron backed up, running into his desk, visibly worried. House limped over to her as quickly as his leg allowed. "I don't need to be coddled! Especially not by you!"

Cameron opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She tried to calm herself and find her voice. _'Is anything worth this? Okay, yes, he's an ass, but he's hurting. You should remember how that feels…This is for his own good…Suck it up…'_

"I…I just want to **_help_** you."

"I.Don't.Need.Any.Help! So she left! It wasn't the first time! I'm a big boy… I'm _dealing_ with things."

"How?" Cameron demanded, all inhibitions leaving her. "How are you dealing with things? Pop a few dozen extra Vicodin here and there? Chase it down with a couple glasses of Scotch? Jeez, I mean, you were taking _hallucinogens _the other day!"

"For my migraine!"

"_Self-induced_ migraine!"

"You're way out line." House said coldly.

"And _you're **hiding**_!" Cameron yelled back at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes searing.

They stood in complete silence for a minute or so that seemed to last forever, just staring at each other. The echoes of words never intended to be spoken hanging in the tense air between them.

**--BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep!--**

_--BeBe**Beep! **BeBe**Beep!** BeBe**Beep!**--_

The awkward moment was interrupted by both House's and Cameron's pagers going off.

"Saved by the bell." House mused.

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That's it for this chapter! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Waiting on the Sun to Set

**Author's Note**: I just have to say another huge thank you to everybody who has read the story thus far! And a special thanks to **hpluver**, **livetoeat06**, **rachbigbro**, **Aqua Mage**, **Dani, theshowpopper**, **phm**, **bmax**, **angellicious02**, **jessipo** and **aldrex** for taking the time to write reviews. Everybody's been so nice, encouraging and helpful! You guys are the best!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything related to "House". I'm just borrowing the characters. I'll give them back…Promise.

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Foreman pulled the door shut behind him as he exited Mrs. Teasdale's room. He heard the loud, rhythmic tap of his boss' cane approaching before he saw him.

"What happened?" House called down the hallway.

Foreman walked over to meet him halfway. "Respiratory distress. I had to intubate."

"See," he turned to Cameron who had remained a least a few feet behind him. "**This** is why you go with them." He turned back to Foreman, "I give you and Chase the seemingly simple tasks of scanning her and drawing some blood and within ten minutes, you've already almost killed her."

"But I didn't—" Foreman started.

"Yeah, yeah. Wasn't your fault…Or at least that's your story and you're sticking to it." House said with a sly smile.

Foreman sighed. "She's stable for right now."

"Well, since I'm assuming you and Chase didn't manage to do any of the tests yet, I'll say this one more time…Get an EKG and a blood workup…Take Cameron with you."

Cameron seemed as though she was going to protest, but House wasn't about to give her the opportunity. "I've got a date with _General Hospital_." He walked off, calling over his shoulder, "And try not to kill her this time around!"

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"_**We have to find a way to keep Dylan from finding out." **The buxom brunette said shaking her companion by the shoulders._

"_**You have to keep me from finding out about what? **Dylan asked from behind them._

The screen faded to black and the ending credits of his soap started to roll. All three members of his team strolled into the adjoining office and gathered around the table. House switched off the set and went to see what was up, popping a Vicodin into his mouth as he went.

"What's the verdict?"

"The EKG showed a mild arrhythmia and her white count is mildly elevated." Foreman announced.

"Both of which most likely point to an infection, just like Cameron suggested," Chase said.

"_No!_ _Really?_" House's eyes widened, his voice oozing sarcasm. "I had no idea! Thank goodness you were here Dr. Chase!" He started to walk over to the coffee machine, but after a step, stopped and stared at his feet looking perplexed. He looked up at Chase in a mock panic. "Oh no! Now I've seemed to have forgotten how to walk too…How does it go again, Dr. Chase? Right foot, left foot, right…Oh darn! I'm just _all_ confused!"

Foreman and Cameron tried in vain to conceal smiles, but Chase was clearly annoyed.

House poured some coffee into his favorite red mug and took a sip. "Usually an infection causes a fever, not hypothermia, like Mrs. Teasdale had…But …purely for the sake of humoring you, what type of infection was she being treated for before?"

Cameron scanned the chart. "It looks like a staph infection…"

"Where's her sed rate?" he asked.

"It's normal." Foreman answered back.

"Start her on 200 mg of Lorabid, just in case…Keep your eyes peeled for any blisters…And test her thyroid, while you're at it…"

Chase leaned back in his chair. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we should try figuring out what's _actually_ wrong with her. Now go." House said, motioning with his head towards the door.

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Three hours later outside Room 244, House stood watching the frail old woman's chest rise and fall slowly to the beep and hum of several machines.

Dr. Wilson strode up beside him. "Still no improvement, huh?"

"Nope."

"You finally heading home? You were off half an hour ago."

"Yeah."

"You wanna stop by O'Reilly's for a drink on the way?" Wilson asked.

"No thanks. I'm tired. I just want to head home." House adjusted his bag. "Night."

"Night." Wilson said, watching his friend's retreating form with a certain unease.

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A loud knocking rang through the tranquil silence of House's apartment. He glanced at his watch. Quarter till ten.

'_Who the hell is knocking at my door at a quarter till ten?'_ he thought. He limped over to the door and glanced through the peephole. _'Oh great…'_

He opened up the door to Cameron standing on his doorstep.

"Dr. Cameron," he said flatly. "You've officially moved past _caring _and into _stalking._"

Without waiting for an invitation, she ducked past him and walked into his apartment.

His raised his eyebrows. "And now we're breaking and entering." He closed the door and feigned a look of pride. "They grow up so fast."

Cameron gave him one of her patented fretful looks. "I—"

"Je suis bien." House said, quickly cutting her off.

"Wh—"

House interjected again, " Eu estou bem."

Cameron looked at him as though he had grown a third head. "Y—"

"Ik ben fijn." House tried his best at a Dutch accent.

"Whatareyou—" Cameron managed to rush out, afraid of being interrupted yet another time.

"I'm just wondering how many different ways I have to say 'I'm fine' before it finally sinks in for you. So far I'm up to _four_."

Her eyes roamed over the dimly lit room and settled on several empty bottles of various alcohols on and around his coffee table. Her mouth fixed itself in a straight line and she folded her arms, looking very much like a mother who had just caught her child with their hand in the cookie jar.

Amused and irritated by her expression, House smiled slightly. "Ya got me…**_Big_** party…You just missed everyone…I would have invited you, but I figured it was a _school night _and all…"

Without a word, she reached down and scooped up all the empty glasses and bottles and headed into the kitchen, dropping the glassware into the sink and the rest in the garbage.

"You came over here at ten o'clock at night just to tidy up the place?" House shrugged, "It's a little unorthodox, but to each his own…Bedroom's that way." He pointed down the hall. "Be sure to turn down the sheets and leave a mint on the pillow." House limped slowly over to his piano and took a seat on its bench.

Cameron said nothing as she disposed of the remaining trash. When she came back into the room, House was playing a slow, gentle song.

She sat down on the arm of the couch and just listened to the sweet music that was filling the room. It wasn't a song she could identify, but it was still strangely familiar, like something from a dream…She liked the sound of it—beautiful, yet haunting…

When he was finished, Cameron whispered, almost inaudibly, "That was wonderful."

There was a long period of silence before House finally spoke.

"I told her to leave."

Cameron looked at him patiently, waiting—hoping for him to continue.

"Stacey," he needlessly clarified. "I told her to leave."

Cameron leaned forward, cupping her hands.

"She had to make a choice—her husband or me…and…she chose **_me_**…" House had a far-off look in his eyes, a look Cameron recognized all too well. "And then…I told her she was better off with Mark and she should go home…That things should go back to the way they were…"

Cameron shook her head. "I don't understand…"

"You don't have to…Point is… she wasn't some she-devil who seduced me and ran…It ended on _**my** terms_…_**I** _made a choice…and _I'm_ **_dealing_** with it…So you can call off the great big pity parade…"

"It's not _pity_," she said frustrated. "It's _concern._ **_Heaven forbid_** someone actually _care _about what happens to you."

"Well, you can stop worrying already." He said, shakily getting to his feet. "I know what I'm doing."

She moved over to him and took his hands in hers and looked deep into his eyes. "That's what's scaring me…" the emotion evident in every one of her delicate features. "Knowing—realizing what you're doing to yourself here…" she paused as she moved within mere inches of him. "Knowing you're going to get burned and then sticking your hand into the fire anyway…being so...so _clearheaded_ yet so completely _reckless and stupid_ at the same time…That's not something that's _reassuring_, House."

He looked down at the hands that still held his own. "There you go again with the needing reassurance thing."

Cameron gave him a small knowing smile and let him pull his hands away from hers, sensing that his return to his normal snarky behavior was signaling the end of their conversation.

He walked around her and stopped near the door. "You should go…It's getting late and I need my beauty rest…"

"Right." She said nodding and flashed him one last small smile before leaving.

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That's it for this chapter! What did you guys think? **Please Review!** As always, I'd appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

Note: The three languages House uses in his apartment right after Cameron arrives are meant to be French, Portuguese and Dutch. Those are all my very poor attempts at translating. I'm not trying to offend anyone by butchering their language or anything, so have pity on me!


	4. Yesterday Ain't Over Yet

**Author's Note**: This is an updated Chapter 4…Sorry it took so long…Midterms were a beast…Then there was spring break…And 3 new mid-semester classes…And a whole bunch of other stuff that boils down to—"I got super busy. My bad."

**Disclaimers**: I don't own House…(sad face) …b/c if I did there wouldn't be any more stupid hiatuses!

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**Chapter 4—Yesterday Ain't Over Yet**

Allison Cameron's mornings were all spent very much the same way: She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to start the coffee, followed by a quick shower. When she was finished, she would get dressed, putting on the outfit that she had planned for that day—accessories down to her shoes—and then sat down to a short breakfast of fruit, toast and coffee. Then it was off to work…

But on this particular day, before she walked out the door, there was one phone call that needed to be made…

She took her leather address book out of her purse and flipped through the pages quickly until she found his name. She picked up her phone and dialed the number. It rang.

'_Oh shoot…Oh shoot…Oh shoot…Maybe I shouldn't have dialed him…What if he's angry? What if I'm waking him up? Maybe I should just hang up and forget--_'

"Hello?" the male voice inquired.

'_Too late._' She thought and hesitantly replied, "Um…hi…" '_Ugh…Stupid…_' She chastised herself for her horrible phone etiquette.

"Hi…?" he sounded very confused.

"Dr. Wilson?"

"_Cameron_? Is that you? It's 6:30. Is everything okay?"

"Well…Sort of…I'm really sorry to bother you so early in the morning like this…"

"It's no problem…What's up?"

"I need to ask you a favor…"

"Um, okay. Sure." Wilson said rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What is it?"

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Greg House was completely sprawled out across his bed as though he had fallen from the ceiling. He was more or less awake, but not willing to open his eyes, let alone get up. His leg ached and his head felt like it was splitting in two. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. '_Déjà vu_…' he thought, absurdly amused by the growingly familiar pains.

He knew he should start getting ready for work, that he was in danger of being late again and reminded himself of this fact over and over as he lay there. But somehow, these thoughts weren't quite enough to motivate him. And soon, they were replaced by thoughts of _'just a few more minutes…'_

**--Bzzzzz--**

**--Bzzzzz--**

'_What the hell is that?' _

**--Bzzzzz--**

**--Bzzzzz--**

He pulled his upper body to the edge of the bed toward the general direction of the noise.

Right next to the bed on the floor was a pile of clothes he had shed from the day before, and he fumbled through them, flinging articles everywhere as he tried to reach the source of the steadily amplifying sound.

Finally, he tracked it to a jeans' pocket—it was his cell. He flipped it open and let his head collapse back on the bed.

"Somebody better have died…" he mumbled, his face smooshed against the coolness of the mattress below him.

"Good morning!" The reply was **way** too bubbly. "Dr. House, this is your morning wake up call!"

"Tsch…Wilson? Is that you?"

"We have a lovely continental breakfast—"

House snapped the phone shut and turned it off.

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

This time it was his home phone that rang loudly from the living room.

'I am not getting up…' House thought defiantly.

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

A quick silence and then…

**--Click--**

House's recorded voice could be heard as the machine picked up. "I'm not here. Leave a message."

**--Beeeep!--**

"Hoouusse! Ohhh, Hoouusse!" Wilson put on a whiny, almost sing-song-y voice as he left his message.

And then nothing…

House grinned to himself. _'Now back to—'_

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Click--**

"I'm not here. Leave a message."

**--Beeeep!--**

"I know you're **_there _**House…Pick up the phone…Come on…You know you want to…Pick up the phooonne!" Wilson's voice drifted into a strange baby-talk tone.

…20 minutes and half a million annoying messages later…

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

"That's it!" House bellowed.

Thoroughly annoyed and becoming rather enraged, House simply could not take it anymore. He swung himself out of bed as quickly as possible, grabbed his nearby cane and charged over to the still ringing nightmare.

**--Brrriiinnnggg!--**

House picked up the headset, and having lost any remnants of anything _resembling _patience, screamed into the receiver, "**WILSON! IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, YOU BETTER STOP CALLING! IF I HAVE TO HEAR THIS PHONE RING _ONE_ _MORE TIME_, BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I AM NOT ABOVE BLUDGEONING YOU TO DEATH WITH MY CANE AND THEN SHOVING YOUR PHONE SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT YOUR SPLEEN WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE COLLECT CALLS!**"

No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth, he spun around to the sound of his front door clacking unlocked. It swung open to reveal Wilson there, cellphone to his ear.

"Alright…Alright!" he said grinning madly. "No need to yell…"

He ducked quickly as a cordless phone went sailing past his left ear.

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Several nurses stopped to stare as Drs. House and Wilson hobbled through the front doors of Princeton Plainsboro sporting matching limps—Wilson's, an expression of House's "gratitude" for all Wilson's _concerned _efforts that morning.

They stepped into the elevator and House pushed the button. As the doors closed, Wilson turned to him and said, "I really hate you sometimes, you know…"

House chuckled.

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The two of them approached the diagnostics office and House found he had a small crowd waiting for him.

He strolled leisurely into the room—or as leisurely as one could stroll with a minor hangover and a limp—and set his bag down on a chair. "Foreman, Chase, Cameron _**and** _Cuddy... Full house today…What's the occasion? Chase having his bar mitzvah?"

Cuddy went to open her mouth but rearranged it into a frown as she watched Wilson moving very stiffly as he attempted to take a seat toward the back of the room. "What happened to you?" she asked.

Wilson shot daggers from his eyes at House. "Nothing." He told her, shaking his head. "I guess I'm just a little _achy_ this morning…" he glanced over at the window, eyeing the sky and shrugged. "I don't know…Maybe it's going to rain or something…"

"Or maybe our Wonder Boy, Wilson, here, just had a really long night of _lovin'_ with the blonde from accounting," House offered, rather enjoying inflicting the added punishment of embarrassment on his friend.

"Ha!" Wilson scoffed, but still blushed slightly.

Smirking, House trudged past him to the coffee machine, only to find that it was nearly empty. He frowned. "Great…just what else I need today…" he said sarcastically.

"Could we _please_ focus here for a minute?" Cuddy pleaded.

"Focus on what, exactly? That the best part of waking up is currently overflowing out of your D-cups?" he waggled his eyebrows, flashing a mischievous look.

Cuddy plastered on her best see-through smile. "You know what? I'll come back after you've had your caffeine…Maybe then you'll be slightly more bearable…"

"I wouldn't count on it."

"When I come back here, I expect you to have your weekly clinic hours finished and an update on your patient." Cuddy turned quickly on her heel and left.

"_Ohhh…yeeaahhh_…!" House snapped his fingers. "The **_patient_**…Knew I forgot something…" he teased. "What's the status of…"

"Mrs. Teasdale." Foreman obligingly filled in the blank.

"Whatever." House said. "What's the dealio?"

As they flipped through the file, House took the opportunity to reach over Chase's shoulder and snatched his yellow coffee mug.

Chase stopped immediately and looked up at House, "Hey!"

House walked to the white board. " _'Hey'_ is for horses. Goats eat grass. Shut the hell up and kiss my—"

House's limerick was stopped short by Cameron reaching around House from behind and taking the cup from his hand, replacing it with the red mug she held. "**_This_** is **_yours_**."

She handed the yellow mug backed to Chase, who clutched it protectively as he walked to the other side of the room.

House scowled at her and then sniffed the coffee skeptically. "What? You poison it or something?" He looked at Cameron. "Are you staging a department coup?"

"Do you think I'd tell you if we were?" She leaned in close to him and whispered into his ear, "It's _Irish_." She gave a little wink and House couldn't help but smile a little. "A bit of the hair of the dog that bit you, so to speak…helped me and my roommates the morning after a big party when we were in college."

He took a sip. Sure enough, she had lightly spiked it with a dash of Bailey's.

"Nice." He nodded his approval. Picking up a marker, he started writing on the white board, 'Hypothermia'.

"Mrs. Teasdale is not responding to the Lorabid…which means no 'Strep: The Sequel'…What else…" House paused as he scribbled 'Slow pulse rate' to the list. "…Could cause these symptoms?"

Chase sighed vehemently. "Nothing we haven't already tested for…Look, she's _old_…Maybe it's just her time…"

"Haven't you heard? _60_ is the new _40_…" House said, capping the marker. "_Old age_ is not a valid diagnosis…Though, I'll be sure to tell her daughter that your vote was 'to just put mom out to pasture'…"

"Well, you'd have to _find_ her _first_. Her daughter never showed up."

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Well, that was the update! I hope you liked it! I also hope chapter five will be up before too long…I've got a good chunk of it written already, so…fingers crossed…

Questions/Comments/Suggestions/Reviews are love

Thanks! You guys are the best readers ever!


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